


Favour

by Sunflower92



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 15:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17810681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunflower92/pseuds/Sunflower92
Summary: A post-coital scene that shows Hawke giving Fenris the red favour he wears on his wrist for much of the game,





	Favour

Afterwards, when they lay tangled in her sheets together Hawke noticed a small tear in the corner of Fenris’ eye glistening in the firelight.

His gaze flickered away. He couldn’t explain what happened. Only that a sudden flash of memories and images burned through his mind and pushed everything, for a moment, into perfect clarity. And then just as quickly, just as painfully, it was all gone. And the harder he tried to remember, the further it all drifted away.

She pushed the hair out of his eyes and thumbed the droplet away, “Is this a good sign or a bad one?” She asked half-teasingly.

He grasped her hand, “It’s nothing,” he lied, “I hear it’s a relatively common occurrence during this sort of thing.”

“If you say so. You seemed distracted near the end. You just… froze.”

He forced himself to smile and told her, “It would take a lot to distract me from you.”

She rolled her eyes at that. It would seem he failed to charm her. But she chose to ignore his attempts at deflection, kissed him, and didn’t pursue it further.

“Hang on,” She said, eager to change the subject, “There’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”

Brow furrowed, he watched as she reached down from the bed to her pile of discarded clothing and pulled out a red kerchief. Then she sat up and held out her palm, silently asking for his hand.

Fenris glared at her, “I’ve no interest in being tied up.”

She seemed taken aback, “That’s not- here, just let me show you.”

Still skeptical, he nonetheless reached over and let her wrap the cloth around his wrist.

“My mother,” she began, “used to tell me of the tourneys she would attend with her friends when she was younger. Often, by way of flirting or courting, the girls would give a gift to whichever contestant they favored: a brooch, a belt, a handkerchief, that sort of thing. Often they’d have the sigil of whatever family the girl was from.”

Fenris let himself relax and sank against the pillows as he watched her pale hands work.

“So these fighters,” she continued, “would wear these gifts when they went out to compete. Almost like a kind of romantic sponsorship.”

He smiled, “So I have your sponsorship then, do I?”

She tied the knot and turned the fabric so that the embroidered sigil faced upwards.

“If you want it.”

He pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. He doubted that even in his forgotten life he had ever been as happy as he was in that moment. But when her hands ran along his aching skin, when his blood began to heat up again he felt the forgotten images and names stirring at the edges of his mind. He ignored it as best as he could. But when she was finally asleep in his arms he felt adrift in the darkness, jumping from memory to memory, yet unable to hold on to anything. He rubbed the kerchief on his wrist and wished silently:

_Whatever happens, just make sure she knows what she means to me._


End file.
